


Narimoyak

by ardavenport (adavenport)



Category: Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Humor, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-05-01 02:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5188424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adavenport/pseuds/ardavenport
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Obi-Wan learns a hard lesson about the pointlessness of a death from his Master and fellow Jedi. And after returning to the Temple, an odd commemoration turns to excess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Narimoyak: Sudden Death

**Narimoyak: Sudden Death**

by ardavenport

_We're too late._

Obi-Wan's hand tensed over the control panel of the small cruiser.

"Steady, Obi-Wan." His Master's voice sounded calm, but from out of the corner of his eye Obi-Wan could see Qui-Gon's proud profile in the co-pilot's seat, his eyes staring straight ahead, fixed on their destination. They both felt the same sharp, shared tension in the Force. Obi-Wan swallowed, his own eyes on the hazy atmosphere below them.

Their ship descended through the perpetual clouds that surrounded this world. It was called Yom Ber. No sun or starlight ever touched its shrouded surface. Only a few hardy settlers, who did not mind the gloom, sparsely populated this world; their ship sped toward a deserted region. They broke through the upper layers of clouds. Below them, Obi-Wan saw more gray. Their instruments and a holo map of the surface showed where the beacon had come from.

_Someone died. Perhaps both._

Obi-Wan could not tell how many but it was at least one. An impression of heat, impact, broken bones and twisted flesh passed through his body. He had never felt anything like it before. It had not been the slipping away into the Force of an elderly Master in the Temple, or even the sudden heartbreaking cry of anguish from a stranger.

A Jedi had died violently.

They had received a distress signal that suddenly ended. The Jedi Temple on Coruscant confirmed the source and they were closest to it. Jedi Master Narimoyak and her Padawan Learner, Deena Sh'Shemi, were in a nearby system, serving as intermediaries between several multi-world interests involving the planets in that part of space, including Yom Ber. Their mission completed successfully, they had been returning to Coruscant but there was no explanation for their detour to this world. Their beacon had simply gone disturbingly dead.

Plunging down below the last layer of clouds, their small ship now skimmed over a gray and deep green landscape. They dove down toward a mountainside jutting up above the dense forest. Qui-Gon leaned forward pointing to their destination, an ugly black scar on slate-gray cliffs. Pieces of a wrecked ship, disturbingly similar to their own, lay scattered on the ground below the point of impact.

Obi-Wan landed their craft as close as he could to the crash site but they still had to climb through the rocks to reach it.

"Master Narimoyak!"

Qui-Gon's call barely echoed in the heavy air, even with the huge rock face nearby. A dark green forest of giant ferns receded into the haze below them. They scanned the area, their senses eager for any response. But they only heard low, distant warbles and clicks from the native wildlife.

Both Jedi turned at the same time toward the same place. They felt it through the Force, a wordless impulse. They hurried down a gentle rocky incline, dislodging stray pebbles as they went to the edge of the fern forest. At the wall of the giant multi-pinnated leaves they heard movement in the foliage. They put the hoods of their robes up, attaching hidden fasteners under their chins to hold them in place, and pushed through the leaves toward the sound.

They walked through the dark gloomy forest, richly scented with decaying plants and soil. Little sticks and pale blue underbrush around the huge fern stalks snagged at the hems and sleeves of their robes. There was hardly any free space at all, just curtain after curtain of deep green leaves.

"Master Narimoyak!" Obi-Wan called out.

The movement toward them grew louder.

"Here," a low woman's voice answered. The sense of another's presence became very strong. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan stopped and drew together, letting the other come to them.

She emerged from the greenery, a dark brown robe among the leaves that she pushed aside. They could not see her face under her hood, just an impression of lips, nose and pale eyes. She carried in her arms a smaller robed figure, the head completely covered in folds of dusty-brown fabric. One arm hung limp, small fingertips visible at the end of the long sleeve. Obi-Wan shivered, remembering his impression of abused flesh and death.

Only the whirring movements of tiny forest creatures disturbed the still air around them. The newcomer bowed her head slightly and they returned the gesture. Qui-Gon turned back to where they had come from. He closed his eyes briefly before moving forward, the Force guiding his direction. The woman, carrying her sad burden, followed immediately behind him and Obi-Wan came after her. Sometimes she would turn sideways to make her way through the leaves and Obi-Wan caught a glimpse of the free arm of the body she carried.

They emerged into the open, the crash site above them. Qui-Gon turned to guide the other up the incline. She accepted his help but clung to her burden. Obi-Wan stayed close behind but there were no missteps as they slowly climbed back up to the flat area under the scarred cliff face. Obi-Wan felt overwhelming sadness within him, like a phantom wail in his head that increased as he watched her gently lay the robed body on the uneven ground. She pushed the hood of her robe back.

It was Master Narimoyak, an elder Zabrak with a long narrow face, lined brown skin and very pale brown eyes. Her ivory-yellow horns, two large ones at her temples and four smaller ones, ringed her hairless, ridged skull like a crown. Her fingernails, the same color as her horns, stood out from the dark skin of her slender fingers as she pulled the hood back from the face of her Padawan.

Deena Sh'Shemi had been young and delicate with tan, almost orange skin, now gone waxy with death. Her eyes were sunken and shadowed and the skin around the small yellow horns at her temples and the three larger ones going up the crown of her head looked stretched and unnatural. Her body was deflated of life, her head turned limply to the side.

Qui-Gon Jinn knelt beside her Master. One of his large hands rested on Narimoyak's shoulder, the other touched hers, the one that brushed Deena Sh'Shemi's cheek. He softly asked her what had happened.

Master Narimoyak sighed, a long, slow exhale. They had completed their mission and were returning to Coruscant, but Deena Sh'Shemi wanted to see Yom Ber. She had been born on this world though she did not remember it, having been given to the Jedi as an infant. Master Narimoyak had visited it before. There could not have been any harm in going.

Obi-Wan listened, absorbing the information without really hearing the words. He stared at the body and the memory of its fragile, broken flesh crept back into him. He shut it out and looked away.

The landing stabilizers had given Narimoyak trouble when they arrived at their mission and they gave the spaceport crew instructions to fix them. There had been plenty of time, days for them to complete the job and the port master reported it finished. Her Padawan told her that the ship's computer registered the repair work but she did not look at the output herself.

"Do you believe it was sabotage?" Qui-Gon asked.

Master Narimoyak shook her head slowly. "No." Her fingertips continued to brush Deena Sh'Shemi's cheek. Qui-Gon's hand closed over her slender one and drew it away. She turned to him. "I think it was an accident."

Obi-Wan stood awkwardly over them. He lowered his head, using the hood of his robe to mask the shock he felt. _An accident_ , he wondered.

"I suppose there will be an inquiry," Master Narimoyak continued, turning back to the body. Qui-Gon still held her hand. Obi-Wan looked away again as she continued.

The stabilizers did not fail until they were flying low, looking for a place to land. When they failed, they failed completely, the ship suddenly spinning wildly with half the displays gone red. Nothing worked. She had grabbed her Padawan and ejected, which automatically activated the distress beacon.

They were separated, hurled into the air before the ship slammed into the mountain and exploded. But the girl was unprepared. Even using the Force to slow her descent, she landed badly. While her Master crashed into yielding foliage, she hit a rock outcropping amidst the forest of tall ferns. Narimoyak found her still alive, but terribly injured where she fell.

"Deena was so ashamed of failing me." Her voice had withered with sorrow and a tear ran down her cheek.

Qui-Gon put his arm around her shoulder; he still held her hand.

"We need to return," he said softly. "We can take her back on our ship."

Master Narimoyak closed her eyes and lifted her head as if she were listening.

"No," she said. "We will do it here."

"Ma–"

Her free hand suddenly went to his lips, covering them.

"No. We will do it here," she repeated firmly.

Obi-Wan watched them from under the hood of his robe. Her fingers, wrinkled and darker at the knuckles and joints lay over Qui-Gon's beard, her pale, almost clawlike nails covering his mouth. He nodded.

She rose, Qui-Gon helping her. He sent Obi-Wan to their ship, to transmit a message and get some supplies and equipment. It would be dark soon. Obi-Wan gratefully left, crossing over the rocks and the small dark ferns peeking out between them.

Inside the ship he recorded his message to the Temple, bowing and then standing at attention for the holocam, his hands folded formally before him as he spoke. He sent it through a secure com and then he turned to the equipment storage behind the two seats. It wasn't a very big ship, but they had standard survival gear. Obi-Wan knew they would need to stay past dark, but he did not know how long after that. So, he took everything for a whole night, lights and water, two survival packs with their various provisions, and an extra mat and covering to lay on the ground.

He tossed it all out through the hatch and then powered the ship down again, sealing it against any trespassing creatures. Loaded down with everything on his back, hanging off of his shoulders, under his arms and in his hands, he made his way back slowly to the crash site. He was sweating in the humid air, but he did not want to make two trips.

When he reached the rocky area under the crash site, there was already a pile of woody fern stalks stacked around a raised slab of rock. A pair of dark, discarded robes lay by the body.

Obi-Wan put all the gear down in a mostly flat area of rocks that was not too close to either the body or the stack of fern stalks. He kicked away bits of crash debris to clear it. Then discarding his own robe, he went down the incline to the edge of the forest where the two Jedi Masters had cut down and stripped piles of giant fern stalks with their lightsabers.

The two Masters worked without stopping. Qui-Gon felled a few more ferns among the stumps, his long brown hair swinging behind him. He picked them up and sliced off the dark foliage from both sides of each stalk with his bright, green blade. Obi-Wan saw that Master Narimoyak's lightsaber was also green with a mostly silver hilt and a long grip. She wore a light brown tunic that went down to her ankles which opened when she moved, revealing dark boots and pants. Her wide belt matched her boots; her obi and the single stole that went around her neck down past her knees were the same off-white as Obi-Wan's own tunic.

Picking up as many stalks as he could manage, Obi-Wan dragged them up to the pile above. He was breathing hard and his under-tunic and tunic were wet and sticking to his back when he dumped them with the others, but he jogged back down to get more. By the time they had enough, the gray light was beginning to dim into the world's shadowless evening as their side of the planet rotated away from its sun.

Obi-Wan silently activated a light by their intended camp and set it on a rock.

"Thank you, Obi-Wan."

He started when Master Narimoyak touched his arm. He looked up at her. This was the first time she had spoken to him. Her gaze made him feel younger than his fifteen years as she looked at his sweaty, disheveled clothes.

He stood and bowed to her. "I am saddened by your loss, Master Narimoyak." He felt awkward speaking to her, the formality of his statement clumsy and shallow.

She reached out a hand and touched his cheek with the back of her fingers.

"You have never seen a death like this before. Of a Jedi. Violent. Pointless," she stated, reading his thoughts better than he could.

He swallowed. "No, Master."

"Do not deceive yourself by looking for purpose. There is none." Her voice, low and strong, carried a tremor of the age that showed on her lined face. "But it is not chance. We decide our own chances when we adapt to our fortunes."

She suddenly snatched her hand away. "Forgive me, Padawan Obi-Wan. I overstep myself." She nodded to him and left, sparing him the need to answer. He wondered if she had been really speaking to him or to herself, or to her dead Padawan.

Qui-Gon began arranging stalks around the chosen rock platform and she joined him. There was some back and forth discussion between Qui-Gon and Narimoyak about the best way to lay out the pyre. Obi-Wan realized that they had both done this before. He activated the light by the rock slab that they arranged the stalks on and went back to where he had put their equipment.

Obi-Wan took a water container from one of the packs and drank some. Still sweaty and sticky in the moist air, he sat on a rock and watched the two Masters for a moment. He heard their voices, but not the words; the sound did not seem to carry very well in the increasing gloom. He knew he should get up and help them but they worked quickly together, knowing exactly what they wanted as they laid stacks of stalks. Occasionally a lightsaber would flash briefly to cut them to a better size. Obi-Wan dreaded getting in the middle of it, not knowing what to do. He felt worse than tired; he felt useless.

When they had connected all the piles into one large, even pyre, Qui-Gon carried several long stalks over to the body and laid them next to it. Obi-Wan saw him take something from one of his belt pouches and begin working over one end of them, then the other. He realized that his Master was using the line from his cable launcher to lash the stalks together. He picked up the water and another light and went over to him.

Qui-Gon sat on his heels staring down at his work, his long hair hanging limply down off his shoulders and sticking to his collar. He silently accepted the container, took a long drink and put it on the ground. Then he looked to his side. In the white, artificial light that Obi-Wan carried the robe that covered the body looked nearly black in the twilight. Qui-Gon went to the shrouded head, his hand briefly passing over it. Then he looked up expectantly at Obi-Wan, who suddenly realized that he needed to take the feet. He put the light down and hurried over. They lifted the body onto the stalks with hardly any effort, it was so light.

Obi-Wan stayed crouched at his end as Qui-Gon bent over the head and unwrapped the fabric covering it. He used both hands to arrange the folds under the pale head to make it lay straight. Then he parted the robe on the body. Obi-Wan stood and stepped back as he worked, arranging the limp arms and legs neatly; not enough time had passed for them to stiffen. Qui-Gon straightened and flattened the tabards, a light shade of brown over her darker tunic, very similar to her Master's, but shorter. Obi-Wan could not tell if any of the shadows on her legs or sides were stains. He thought he could smell blood.

Lastly, Qui-Gon unclipped the lightsaber from the belt. He briefly held it in both hands. The white light glinted off of its silver metal. He turned it over, his thumb hesitating over a gold activation switch at the black base of the hilt. Then he laid it across the stomach. Master Narimoyak would decide what to do with it.

By the pyre, she had gathered dry scraps and bits of leftover stalks into a small pile and started a fire. It was dark. The mountain, the forest, the rocks beyond their lights had disappeared. The night around them was black and opaque with no moon, no stars and no distant lights of any kind, just them.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan picked up the improvised bier and took it to the pyre. They halted before Master Narimoyak and she picked up her Padawan's lightsaber. Her long fingers caressed the black handgrip and its silver length for a moment. Then she clipped it to her own belt, bowed her head and stepped back. They then slid the bier to its place on top of the pyre.

Qui-Gon, then Narimoyak went to get their robes, still lying on the ground at the edge of the light. Obi-Wan hurried to get his, over where he had left their equipment.

They stood together in a line before the unlit pyre, robed and hooded, for one solemn moment. Then Master Narimoyak stepped forward, bent down and took up the end of a long tough stalk sticking out of the fire. They waited while she stood, holding the improvised torch with one hand; she held the edges of her robe together with the other. The fire crackled in the still oppressive air.

"No," she finally said, lowering the flame and tossing it back to the fire. " too soon. We should wait for morning."

"What?" Qui-Gon asked, his voice loud in the gloom.

"We need to wait for morning," she repeated. Qui-Gon strode up to her.

"There is no reason to put this off. You do yourself and your Padawan a disservice by prolonging this." He pressed his argument, his greater size and height looming over her. "We cannot delay. We risk attracting predators if we wait for morning."

"No," the hood of her robe moved from side to side, but her voice sounded much older than it had before. "I will take the watch."

"No," Qui-Gon stepped even closer to her, almost touching, but she still shook her head, hidden under the hood of her robe. He turned, leaving her and bent down to the fire. "If you cannot, then I will—"

"No!" The Force surged.

"Augh!"

The stalk flew out of Qui-Gon's hand to land on the rocks beyond their island of light. Qui-Gon clutched his hand and Obi-Wan saw a glimpse of blood on it. He went to his Master.

Narimoyak stayed frozen in place, her arm still outstretched, her hood thrown back from her horned head, her pale eyes gleaming with emotion.

Qui-Gon's hand had been gashed and scraped when the fern stalk had been ripped from it.

"Master." Obi-Wan pointed and led Qui-Gon to sit next to the light. Qui-Gon kept looking back at Narimoyak. She had dropped her arm and now wearily gazed back, not making eye contact with either of them, but still watching.

"There's something missing," she said, a note of pleading in her aged voice.

Obi-Wan took the medical pouch off of his belt and took out antiseptic/anesthetic pads. They had both added medical pouches to their belts before they had first left the ship on their rescue mission.

Obi-Wan turned Qui-Gon's hand to the light and pushed the hood of his robe off his head to see better. His thin Padawan's braid fell forward; he tucked it back and dabbed at the blood with a clean pad. It wasn't bleeding too badly; most of the damage was from red, jagged scrapes, but he saw a long black sliver embedded in the palm, just under the skin. He took out a medical multi-tool and began to probe the edges of the sliver, testing whether he could pull it out from the exposed end, or if it would need to be cut out.

"Your request is irrational," Qui-Gon stated over Obi-Wan's head.

"Yes, it is." Narimoyak replied, her voice stronger now.

"I do not understand your purpose," Qui-Gon continued. Obi-Wan experimentally pulled on the sliver with the pincer on the multi-tool.

"Nor do I. That is why it is irrational." Footsteps on the rocks moved toward them. The sliver came out part way but then resisted his pull. Qui-Gon's fingers twitched, but he kept his hand still.

"If your purpose is to be irrational, I cannot help you." Qui-Gon did not raise his voice, but his patience had clearly run out.

Footsteps again crossed the gritty rocks and then the sound of movement as Narimoyak sat down next to them. "Some things cannot be helped," she said wistfully.

Obi-Wan tried squeezing the skin at the end of the sliver still underneath and that seemed to help; it slid all the way out this time and he gratefully flicked it away. A little droplet of blood followed it and he reached for another cleaning pad to wipe the wound with. He again turned Qui-Gon's hand toward the light to make sure it was all out and that there were no more slivers.

"This whole episode was unnecessary. We could have returned to the Temple for this," Qui-Gon stated. Finally satisfied, Obi-Wan covered the injury with a pre-treated bacta patch and began to wrap a bandage around the hand to hold it in place.

"Deena asked for this. To be cremated here, since this was the planet where she came from. She said it felt right," the older Jedi Master said. Qui-Gon remained silent this time. "She could speak, nearly to the end...she only died just before you arrived."

"We know," Obi-Wan said, suddenly looking up from the closure on the bandage. The lines and wrinkles on Narimoyak's face were black with shadow and her horns stood out against the darkness behind her. Her brown skin looked washed out in the white light. "We felt it when we dropped out of orbit." He bowed his head again. "We could not come any sooner."

Again, Obi-Wan felt the back of Narimoyak's fingers brush his cheek. His eyes looked up at her.

"You are unfocused, Padawan Obi-Wan," she told him. He lowered his eyes again. He had hoped she would not notice.

Ever since they had found the two other Jedi and Master Narimoyak had laid her dead Padawan down before them, he had kept his thoughts only on the physical tasks before him. He had kept his mind busy with the mundane details of lifting and carrying, selecting and arranging the lights, their equipment, doing everything with his body alone, the Force only a blurry and unused presence in the periphery of his senses.

Without focus and clarity of instinct, a Jedi could not distinguish the subtleties of the Force from the ordinary clutter of random thoughts and intuition, could not connect to its flow and direct it, could not draw strength from it. But with strength and ability came insight and awareness of the essences of others; it could not be shut out; it was the Force. So, Jedi trained to let this flow through themselves as well, to let all the stray flickers of passions, the living thought fragments, the jumble of possibilities in the Force pass through them and away, just as they did their own emotions.

But now the cool, aged hand on his cheek brought back the clarity that he had been avoiding for hours and its connection to a crushing sorrow that he had never experienced and instinctively wanted to hold back. He had seen death before and he had caused it; Obi-Wan did not know why he felt this one so deeply within.

"Obi-Wan." His Master spoke and he turned. Qui-Gon's eyes, dark and shadowed under his hood, looked intently at him. "I am sorry. I was not aware that you found this so difficult. I should have seen before now." Qui-Gon's hands closed over his. They were warm with the Force, powerful and strong with memory and regret.

"You are fearful because the grief changes you." Qui-Gon leaned toward him. "You must let it." Obi-Wan's cheek now felt warm where Narimoyak had touched him.

"Obi-Wan." He stared, transfixed by his Master's gaze, the dark blue eyes almost black in shadow. "Clear your mind."

His eyes closed.

_Three beings on a barren patch of a living world, with the transparent fragments of another, younger than he was, smiling, clever, quick with her lightsaber, green like her Master's, like her eyes, and she was still growing, would be taller than her Master someday, and a lively Jedi Knight who would train many Padawans like her Master, but now that future was torn into little haunting pieces because on a ship when something went wrong, it went wrong, and likely if the Force would guide you it would have already led you not to board beforehand, so there was no help for it, and if they had been assigned the other ship for their mission, Qui-Gon might be standing over his own broken body, or he over Qui-Gon's, or they might both be incinerated in a fireball for others to find and mourn over the remains, or the faulty stabilizers might have been fixed properly at their destination and no one might have been killed..._

Obi-Wan's shoulders sagged, tears running down his cheeks. It was all supposed to pass through him, but it didn't. The terrible possibilities filled him up with their imaginings. A hand gently stroked his hair. He looked down at Qui-Gon's large hands, covering his own.

"It does pass, young one," Narimoyak's low voice said, close to his ear. "But you will be changed from it."

Obi-Wan nodded. Qui-Gon lifted his bandaged hand to him, touching his cheek and this new grief. His Master felt the same sadness, but it was old and worn with years; it had passed through him many times.

Master Narimoyak's hand left him and Obi-Wan turned as she began to rise.

Leaning over Qui-Gon, her hands lifted and cradled his face, pushing back his hood so that her forehead touched his; her hands caressed his beard. Obi-Wan stayed very still, watching their long shared moment of compassion, Master to Master. The possibilities for one were not so for the other.

Narimoyak stood, a tiny smile on her lips as she lifted her dark hood over her head; her face returned to shadow. Obi-Wan saw a glint of tears on Qui-Gon's face. They rose as well, Obi-Wan putting his own hood on, and they went back to the fire. It had gone down but not out. Master Narimoyak lit a loose stalk from it and carried it to the pyre. She lit the dried dead leaves stuffed between the stalks at six points around the base of the pyre, making sure that the fire caught each time.

Master Narimoyak stepped away from the growing fire. She stopped to turn off the artificial light and pick it up before walking back to them.

The three of them stood together, their arms tucked into their sleeves. The flames flicked and climbed up to the small body and soon surrounded it. The light and the heat increased, the fire roaring upward into the darkness.

Obi-Wan stood between Qui-Gon and Narimoyak; the robes on either side of him touched his own. The impenetrable night yielded to the enormous beacon that they had made of Deena Sh'Shemi's body. Swarms of sparks and glowing bits of ash flew up into the darkness. Blasts of heat came off of the pyre, but Obi-Wan did not feel them nearly as deeply as he did the warmth of the two Jedi Masters with him.

**END - - - Narimoyak: Sudden Death, continued in Narimoyak: Odd Assembly**

 


	2. Narimoyak: Odd Assembly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Later, after returning to the Temple, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon meet with Master Narimoyak again.

**Narimoyak: Odd Assembly**

by ardavenport

Obi-Wan inspected himself in the mirror. He evened the hanging ends of his crisp, cream-colored tabards and the matching obi, wrapped around his waist, and straightened the brown belt over them. Then he turned and looked at the back of his tunic in the wide, full-length mirror in his room. The tunic and pants were the same spotless off-white as his obi and tabards. His boots were cleaned, the lightsaber on his belt polished. He ran his hand over his clean, short, thick brown hair. His Padawan's braid barely touched his shoulder, if he tilted his head to one side a little bit.

He stood at attention in the mirror. Then he sagged. He knew that he was just delaying leaving by fussing over his appearance. So, he turned and left the mirror in his sparsely furnished room and left, taking his robe with him. He shrugged the robe on as the door slid shut behind him.

Obi-Wan turned left and walked down the hallway, its stone-composite floors and walls simply decorated, the overhead lighting muted to be enough to comfortably see by but not bright. He passed other doors, just like his own. They were plain, blue-tinted metal with minimal, curling decoration at the edges that matched the pattern on the floor, each door in its own recessed entryway.

He turned left again at an intersection. A thick, green plant grew in a huge pot in the center of the room under a skylight. It was an artificial skylight since the living areas were deep within the thick walls of the Jedi Temple, but it was a very good one that displayed the same weather outside over the city.

He descended two flights of stairs. Two other Jedi passed him on their way up. Both were Ishi Tib with large, amphibian eyes on either side of their green heads and smiling beaks for mouths. One was a neighbor down the hall from Obi-Wan, Master Uoofeeu. The smaller one was his new Padawan, Aauuod. They exchanged smiles and nods as they passed each other. Obi-Wan exited the stairway and walked through another arched doorway into another intersection, similar to the one near his own room. The plant was different and flowering; the skylight had a slightly different shape to it. He turned right and walked a long way down another hallway where the colors were more green than upstairs, the subtle pattern on the floor more angular. He finally stopped at one door. The name on the wall panel in the entryway read 'Qui-Gon Jinn'.

Obi-Wan stood at his Master's door, his hand paused over the entry request. He didn't need the lighted 'occupied' indicator to know that Qui-Gon was inside. He could sense his Master's steady presence, as familiar as the hallway he now tarried in. He gave into the inevitable and touched the square on the panel. It lit up yellow and then the door immediately slid open. Obi-Wan stepped inside, the door closed behind him.

Six individuals stared back at him and he froze, not expecting there to be so many. He had thought that there might be only two or three other Jedi Masters besides his own and Master Narimoyak. Qui-Gon raised his hand and introduced Obi-Wan to the others.

Master Narimoyak, Obi-Wan already knew. He and Qui-Gon had rescued her from a crash on Yom Ber that had killed her young Padawan, Deena Sh'Shemi. Since then Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had not been sent on any other missions. They had been at the Temple for several days and Obi-Wan hadn't seen Master Narimoyak since they had returned. He hadn't expected that he would, but Qui-Gon had told him over their morning meal in the dining hall that Master Narimoyak had invited him to a semi-regular convocation that she shared with a group of Jedi Masters. Apparently, whoever was in the group and at the Temple would gather for an evening of discussion every ten days. Qui-Gon had accepted her invitation and offered his own room for them to meet in.

Obi-Wan had not wanted to go. As he had sat silently over his bowl of boiled grain and fruit, he had been able to tell that Qui-Gon knew that he did not want to go. Obi-Wan had offered to go anyway, feeling that if he did not go he would be abandoning Qui-Gon somehow.

Now, standing in a room of Jedi Masters, most of whom he did not know, he didn't feel so brave. He especially felt Master Narimoyak's serene, pale brown eyes on him. Obi-Wan regretted being nervous. He knew she could sense it in him. He did not wish to cause her more pain by wanting to avoid her, but seeing her again reminded him again of her terrible and very recent loss.

He now faced the Jedi Masters, all sitting on floor cushions around Qui-Gon's table. Obi-Wan nodded to each Master as Qui-Gon introduced them.

Master Annapaz sat next to Narimoyak. He was a Talz and he beeped at Obi-Wan in greeting and then sipped a drink from a plastic cup (there was a small stack of them on the table). He wore only sand colored tabards, obi and belt over his white furred shoulders; his four, dark gray eyes held no expression that Obi-Wan could read.

Master Lmod Bing Zu sat at the opposite end of the table from Qui-Gon. He was Abyssin with one large, slitted eye that looked Obi-Wan over carefully as he silently munched crunchy noodles from a disposable bowl before him. His tough, hairless skin was heavily wrinkled with age. Next to him sat another Abyssin, Master Bokku Od, even more wrinkled with skin like ash who had apparently been Lmod's former Master many, many years ago. They both wore the same color of reddish brown tunics. Bokku also silently appraised Obi-Wan with no comment as he plucked a noodle from the bowl.

Master Minee sat opposite Annapaz. She turned her head and greeted him. Obi-Wan knew her. She had instructed many Jedi younglings in Force studies. It had been years since Obi-Wan had been one of her pupils as a much younger initiate, but it still felt odd for him to be with her in such a purely social setting. She was Human, elderly with sharp features and long, iron-gray hair, tightly bound into one braid that hung down her back, the end of it laying on the ground behind her where she sat. Obi-Wan remembered that it went down past her knees when she was standing.

Master Narimoyak spared him from having to say anything by commenting to Qui-Gon, "Deena would sometimes be caught when this odd assembly ended up in my room. She always preferred to sit and observe her elders."

"She was a very good listener," Master Minee said quietly, with feeling. She picked up a square, brown cookie from a plate on her left. "Very mindful. I deeply regretted hearing of her loss," she said to Narimoyok, who bowed her ivory horned head in return.

Qui-Gon gestured toward his flat sleep couch on the opposite wall of the room and Obi-Wan gratefully retreated. He sat down, crossing his legs. Normally, he would have sat on a floor cushion, but they were all taken. There was a pile of Jedi robes next to him on the couch. Obi-Wan put his behind him, to keep it from being confused with the others.

Qui-Gon's living space was a single, windowless room, the same dimensions and furnishings as Obi-Wan's own room and for the thousands of other Jedi housed in the Temple. There was a private fresher and mirror to Obi-Wan's right, an alcove and wall panels for storage but very little else; a loose floor rug, the sleep couch, a table next to it and the low dining table and floor cushions. Unlike his own room, the wall opposite the sleep couch was curtained with heavy, deep red fabric, making the whole room darker, more contemplative. The overhead lighting was set to only illuminate the table area and the wide holo-picture on the wall to Obi-Wan's left was set to a moonless night scene of a beach with city lights in the distance. Obi-Wan sat in the darker half of the room where he hoped he would be ignored.

He watched and listened. Annapaz beeped an appreciation of Deena Sh'Shemi and Master Lmod agreed. Then he picked up the bottle of pink fizzie next to him and poured it into a cup.

Obi-Wan took note of the food and drink on the table, the pink fizzie, the large bowl of crunchy noodles, cookies as well as dried fruit, frosted with crystalline specks and what looked like borta-dipped nuts. The snacks surprised him; he couldn't imagine why Qui-Gon, who always ate sparingly, would have so much in his room. None of it was available inside the Jedi Temple itself. Obi-Wan recognized the labels on the fizzie bottle and the box of nuts. They were common brands easily obtainable from the markets in the city neighborhoods around the Temple.

Bokku prompted his former student about the Force metaphor that he'd been speaking about. Apparently that was the topic of the discussion that Obi-Wan had interrupted. Master Minee immediately declared her position that all metaphors were unnecessary and even harmful. That got his own Master into the discourse. Strong with the Living Force, Qui-Gon spoke of it as a living thing, in the moment, guiding as if with a will. This was a minority view in the Jedi Order and most of the other Masters looked unreceptive to it, though the two Abyssins nodded in agreement.

Obi-Wan had heard this lecture from Qui-Gon many times already and his attention wandered back to the table arrangements. He wondered where all the floor cushions had come from. He knew Qui-Gon didn't have any more than two or three extra. His questions about that and the food were almost immediately answered by the quiet sound of the door tone. Qui-Gon's hand immediately went up as he used the Force to answer it. The door slid open and another Jedi Master entered. He carried a large jug in one hand and his own floor cushion in the other.

The new arrival, Master Davemo Nooli, welcomed everyone, holding up the jug, putting it on the table between Minee and Booku and throwing down his floor cushion under it. He was human with very short arms and legs and a thick, nearly white beard that spread down over his chest. He bowed his balding head to Qui-Gon as his host and then to Narimoyak to express his condolences. She smiled warmly back and thanked him.

Davemo took his robe off and after scanning the room spied the pile on the couch and moved toward it.

"You and your Master were the ones who helped Narimoyak after the accident?" He pointed a thumb toward Qui-Gon.

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan solemnly replied. He didn't know what else to say. He had seen Davemo in the Temple, but he had never known his name before. Apparently Davemo did not know what else to say either. The Force rippled with sympathy around him as he patted Obi-Wan's arm before going back to the table.

Davemo then took Master Minee's side in the discussion arguing that the use of any living metaphor when referring to the Force invited abuse; people would attribute a personality to it and start claiming to know what it wanted. Master Qui-Gon looked quite affronted by the extrapolation. Narimoyak thought that the Davemo's example was too extreme, but she accepted his point. Annapaz was complaining to both Abyssins about careless anthropomorphic metaphors when two more Masters arrived.

Master Porum Kyas was a very thin Humanoid with reddish, hairless skin except for a gray topknot at the crown of his head. Master Tekta was a Gran with three raised eyes and dusty brown skin the same color as her tunic. She moved slowly with age, but her loud grating voice caught everyone's attention when she spoke.

They came with a carton of sweet curls, a box of hard, tart-candy, a bucket of gooey mini-dumplings and a box of hand-wipes. Obi-Wan introduced himself to them as he took their robes and added them to the heap next to him. They acknowledged him politely before joining the discussion at the table. They also bowed to Qui-Gon and offered their condolences to Narimoyak.

Porum offered only lukewarm support for Force metaphors while Tekta told the white-furred Talz that if one wasn't allowed to depict the Force with living metaphors then one might as well also ban anyone from attributing motivations to diseases or avarice to molds. Annapaz beeped back that anyone was free to use whatever terminology that they liked, but he didn't have to respect it.

Safely out of the debate, Obi-Wan could now certainly see where the food was coming from. Qui-Gon had told him that one person in the group would bring something to eat and one something for all to drink. They seemed to have mis-communicated this part of the gathering. The door tone sounded again and another Jedi Master entered.

Master Yazal, an older Zabrak like Narimoyak, arrived with a box of deep-fried fil-pas and a bag of cookies. After making his offering of food and condolences and taking his place at the table, Yazal politely agreed with Minee's point that attributing the Force with any type of 'personality' was dangerous and asserted that the Force should be discussed and contemplated in only the most minimalist fashion. Tekta loudly disagreed, ticking off several historical examples of where minimalism had led to gross misinterpretations and a few small wars while Yazal silently practiced his minimal style and helped himself to a fil-pas and a blue drink from Davemo's jug.

Qui-Gon took a cookie and a gooey dumpling from a plate being passed around as he answered the next door tone. A woman with very short silver hair and a very faded brown robe entered. Master Temmog bowed to Qui-Gon and Narimoyak; she brought a plasti-skin of spiced tea and a can of brightly colored mella-sticks to eat. Master Porum immediately helped himself to some green ones. Temmog made a space for herself between Minee and Davemo. Her long, extra-jointed fingers plucked a drippy dumpling from the bucket; she declared neutrality toward Force metaphors, as long as they were based on only non-sentient life-forms. Tekta testily challenged her to define 'sentient'.

The door tone sounded again.

When Master Yumzumu and Master Elest Emordi came with pickled yag-fungus and a bag of air cooked ibidz kernels, Qui-Gon looked a bit concerned about the size of the crowd in his room and the large collection of snacks on his table, but Obi-Wan's Master looked resigned when Master Fedhr Tem came through the door moments later with a tube of yellow emod pate and a big bottle of sloggo-juice. A couple of bags of snacks were placed on the floor to make room.

Obi-Wan accepted their robes and put them on the pile. Master Yumzumu, a Sullustan with huge, black eyes, a tiny mouth and sagging, wobbly jowls, bowed to him and laid her hand in his; she had a wonderfully peaceful manner and a squelchy voice. Master Elest was a short stout Human woman with a huge head of gray frizzy hair and a brisk manner; she barely acknowledged him as she tossed her robe on the top of the pile. Master Fedhr was a Bothan with faded orange fur and long ears; she looked back to Qui-Gon and Narimoyak and then at Obi-Wan. Some insight through the Force told Obi-Wan that she was thinking of the Zabrak woman's now deceased Padawan. Obi-Wan remained still and solemn as Fedhr politely bowed to him before going to the table.

Like every other Jedi Master that Obi-Wan had seen arrive, the newcomers specifically invited Master Narimoyak to partake of their offerings. For each one, she would smile and take a bite or a drink and thank them for being kind and thinking of her before passing it on to Qui-Gon. Sometimes they mentioned Deena Sh'Shemi, sometimes they didn't; though Obi-Wan sensed the young Zabrak girl in everyone's thoughts.

Obi-Wan had seen the death rituals of many cultures. One common feature to most of them was the bringing of food. Even the ceremonies that required fasting always seemed to end with huge excesses of food. He was just surprised to see Jedi doing the same thing.

The discussion continued, or raged as it seemed to Obi-Wan, with a new side argument about sentience. Amidst it all, everyone munched, slurped, sipped or chewed. Obi-Wan was getting hungry, but he dared not approach or speak, fearing that he would be required to state an opinion about something he did not care about.

At the end of the table Obi-Wan could see, between Masters Fedhr and Davemo, that there was one, last deep-fried fil-pas in the box. It was a large one with a flaky golden-brown outer coating and darker brown sprinkles.

Master Tetkta's grating voice declared that if metaphors were dangerous, then just speaking about the Force was hazardous as well. Elest, Davemo and Annapaz replied, speaking over each other, each unwilling to yield to the others.

Obi-Wan gathered the Force to him. No one at the table seemed to notice. With his eye on the fil-pas he held his hands out in front of him. At that end of the table, Lmod whispered something to Bokku. Qui-Gon said something to Annapaz and Yazal tilted his head back to empty his cup. Obi-Wan felt the Force, extending from his hands to the table.

The fil-pas leapt up out of the box and sailed in a perfect arc to land in Obi-Wan's hands. He didn't even have to reach for it. Grinning, Obi-Wan raised it to his mouth...

The room was suddenly silent.

Frozen in place, Obi-Wan stared back at the fourteen Jedi Masters who had all turned to stare at him.

Master Elest Emordi, who had crammed her floor cushion in between Qui-Gon and Narimoyak, looked at Obi-Wan with irate disapproval. "Well, Padawan, if you have some–"

A pale cookie shot up from the table and hit her squarely on the nose.

For a moment Elest was too stunned to speak, her mouth open in shock. Then she looked about the table accusingly.

"Who did that?!" The other Masters cringed back, innocently looking at their neighbors, but Obi-Wan was sure that he had seen Qui-Gon's hand twitch just before the cookie had launched.

"Who did that?!" Elest demanded again, her large, frizzy hair waving from side to side as she probed each of the others with her glare.

The bag of ibidz kernels on the table exploded.

Obi-Wan dove for cover.

He landed on his stomach on Qui-Gon's rug just as the rest of the food started to fly. The Masters fell back as they were pelted with snacks and as they hurled their own missiles. Flavored liquids splattered as cups and boxes became projectiles as well. Exclamations, yells, grunts and growls followed; Yumzumu squealed while Tekta's loud voice cursed inarticulately. The howls of outrage could have been Narimoyak, Yazal or Fedhr, or all three.

The fil-pas had squished in Obi-Wan's hand when he had gone down and he stared down at the purloined prize that seemed to have started the fight. He hurriedly stuffed it in his mouth. It was filled with sweet-moolu-nut, just as he had speculated, his favorite. He ate it faster than he would have liked, but he didn't have much choice as bits of crunchy noodles and cookies bounced off his head. A whole, mella-stick came straight at his face; he caught it and with only a moment's pause, ate that, too.

"STOP THIS!" It was Qui-Gon. His presence in the Force filled the room every bit as much as his voice had. Silence, almost as loud as the ruckus preceding it, followed.

Obi-Wan lifted his head. Everyone stood back away from the table and the colossal mess they had just made. The Jedi glanced at each other, embarrassed and shocked. No one dared look at their host, except for Narimoyak. She sadly looked at Qui-Gon, then closed her eyes and bowed her head. Obi-Wan felt sadness down in his throat when he saw that, a cruel embarrassment that she hardly deserved.

Master Minee moved first. She reached down to the box of hand wipes on the floor, took one and started to ineffectively swipe at the splotches that hardly showed on her floor-length brown tunic. She passed the box to Masters Temmog and Fedhr whose lighter colored tunics bore more damage.

Unnoticed, Obi-Wan slowly rose and backed away to stand by the fresher door and Qui-Gon's wall mirror. Cookies and snacks crunched underfoot as everyone silently took away the floor cushions. Some of them picked up the largest bits of debris, plates and cups, stacking them in an untidy pile on the table. Others took the hand wipes and futilely tried to lessen the various splatters and stains on themselves. Yumzumu wiped a few gobs sticking to the maroon curtain behind her, but the sticky residue remained.

No one spoke. His tunic damp with pink fizzie, Qui-Gon folded his arms before him and glared around at his guests as they moved about. A few large crumbs clung to his beard and his off-white tunic and tabards were splotched brown in places.

"I believe that the discussion is ended," Qui-Gon finally announced. The repentant glances, mutters and lowered eyes seemed to satisfy him.

They finished cleaning up what they could and Annapaz and Yazal went to the sleep couch for their robes. The others slowly followed.

Obi-Wan had a moment of panic when Bokku Od picked up his robe and started to put it on. But the Abyssan large eye widened as he immediately realized his mistake and put it aside. His former Padawan, Master Lmod Bing Zu, handed him the correct one and helped him into it. There was quite a bit of confusion over whose robe was whose from the pile of over a dozen but they more or less worked it out and then filed out of the room.

"We should have offered him something to eat," Davemo grumbled to Tetka, his hand waving toward Obi-Wan. The loud-voiced Gran mutely nodded agreement.

They each bowed apologetically to Qui-Gon, some offering to call the custodial droids for him. Qui-Gon waved them off, clearly wishing for no more penance from them than their absence, though his expression was less severe toward them than it had been.

Narimoyak remained last, holding a dark brown robe over her arm. She bowed to Obi-Wan, still in his shadowed corner, still hoping not to be noticed. He inclined his head to her. She walked toward him and dread filled him. Putting her arms around his shoulders, she hugged him.

"You do your Master credit. He is very proud of you," she spoke softly in his ear. He clumsily lifted his arms, but she released him and stepped back before he could even attempt to offer a return embrace. She stood back, her hands on his shoulders.

Then her expression inexplicably changed to a big, cheerful smile. Confused, Obi-Wan stared back at this sudden happiness; he felt it, real and bright in the Force.

Narimoyak released him, turning away and going to Qui-Gon. He stood rigid, looking down on her.

"This did not go well," she stated, her back to Obi-Wan.

"No. It did not," Qui-Gon agreed, his expression severe.

"I assume you will not be available for any of our future...discussions."

"You assume correctly, Master Narimoyak."

Obi-Wan could not see her expression, but she bowed her head. Then she reached up to Qui-Gon; her slender hands caressed his beard. Over the crown of her whitish horns, his eyes closed, his brows lowered with worry, then sadness. Obi-Wan sensed it.

Narimoyak lowered her hands and backed away. She took the robe from her arm.

"Uh." She stopped, looking a bit disappointed. "This is Minee's robe," she said, holding it out in front of her. She put it on anyway, covering up the few dark stains on her long, brown tunic. She bowed one last time, her arms folded before her, and left. Obi-Wan self-consciously brushed at his own tunic, but she had not gotten any of it on him when she'd hugged him.

Qui-Gon did not relax until the door had closed behind her. He went to the com on the wall and summoned a Temple custodial droid. Obi-Wan finally stepped away from his corner; he sadly looked down at the heaps of trash on the table and on the floor around it. His Master turned to him.

Qui-Gon froze, staring at Obi-Wan. Suddenly alarmed, Obi-Wan stared back, then hastily looked down at himself. What was wrong? He thought he had managed to avoid getting hit or smeared with anything; his tunic and tabards were still smooth and unblemished. He looked back up again. His Master's expression changed.

Grinning, Qui-Gon started to laugh.

Completely nonplused, Obi-Wan watched his Master succumb to inexplicable humor, his low, rumbling laughter shaking his whole body. Again, Obi-Wan looked down at himself; there were no crumbs, no spots, no globs of food sticking to him anywhere. And why would his Master think anything like that so funny anyway? He hastily ran a hand over his head, fearing that something had landed there and stuck, but he felt nothing. His short hair was perfectly clean with not even anything clinging to the braid hanging behind his ear or the very short tail of hair tied at the back of his head.

Subsiding into hearty chuckles, Qui-Gon stumbled toward the table and bent over it. After pushing aside some of the wreckage, unavoidably dragging his sleeve through a wet, blue puddle, he retrieved a hand wipe from the depleted box. He straightened and took it to Obi-Wan who stared up at his Master with some concern.

Qui-Gon dabbed at Obi-Wan's cheek, by his mouth. The hand wipe came away smudged brown from the creamy filling of the fil-pas. Obi-Wan flinched back, shocked, but Qui-Gon, obviously enjoying himself, took his chin and continued to clean his face. Obi-Wan guiltily submitted while his Master fastidiously removed every speck and sticky trace of residue. Qui-Gon had at least stopped laughing though his eyes remained alive with mirth.

By the time he was finished the door tone sounded and Qui-Gon lifted his hand, answering it. A barrel-chested, custodial droid rolled in. It was V4-88, the same droid that also tended Obi-Wan's room and all the others in their section of the living area of the Temple. Its dull-silver-metal head swiveled around on its neck-post as it scanned the messy clutter on the table, the spots and debris on the floor, and the stains on the wall curtain. Its orange eye sensors seemed to grow larger with surprise before they finally turned to Qui-Gon.

"I shall call for some assistance," its male-tone voice informed them with an undertone higher-pitched than usual. Qui-Gon bowed to the machine.

"We shall vacate the room to allow you to work." He went to the alcove to retrieve his own robe, hanging on a hook. Like the other Masters, Qui-Gon fastened it at the neck to conceal his stained clothes underneath. V4-88 began clearing the table with its spindly arms, putting the trash into a waste bin in its body, as they left the room.

They walked together down the quiet, green and pale tan hallway, but Obi-Wan let his Master lead. Passing the doors of other Jedis' rooms, Obi-Wan supposed that anything could be going on behind them; the sound-proofing in the living areas was extremely good. But he wondered if any passerby would have sensed through a quirk in the Force the furious food-fight that had taken place behind Qui-Gon's door, even if it couldn't be heard.

They reached an intersection with a lush, trailing plant that spilled out of its pot, its leafy tendrils hanging down nearly to the base of the pedestal it sat on. The overhead, holo-skylight here was always set to rain; the plant apparently liked that. Doorways at the intersection led to a stairway, other hallways, a utility alcove for the droids and three meditation rooms.

Qui-Gon palmed the door of an unoccupied mediation chamber. The door slid open with a mechanical swish and closed behind them. White, winter-like light shone behind the vertical slats on the gray walls around four cushioned pedestals. They took two of them, sitting cross-legged next to each other. Qui-Gon said nothing as he closed his eyes and visibly relaxed.

The air in this mediation room was cool and crisp, like the lighting. His robe hanging loosely off his shoulders, Obi-Wan's own body heat kept away the chill; he didn't even need to draw on the Force for that simple, physical discipline. He breathed deeply, long calming breaths, but he did not meditate. He turned his head and watched his Master.

Qui-Gon sat up straight, his head up, his lips slightly parted, his long, brown hair falling off the shoulders of his darker brown robe. The Force seemed to gather around him on its own, with no effort from Qui-Gon, as it always did when he meditated. Obi-Wan felt embarrassed, but had no idea how to sort through it. He felt no guilt at all for anything thrown by Narimoyak's friends. He would freely admit to selfishly using the Force to get himself his own snack; he only felt a little guilty about that. But he had not and he never would have participated in such a humiliating brawl.

His eyes still on his Master, Obi-Wan suppressed some of his ire about the fight when he recalled his certainty that Qui-Gon had thrown the first cookie. He wondered if that was the source of Qui-Gon's current tranquility; if he was as guilty as the others, did that lessen the guilt? The shame reminded him of Narimoyak; Qui-Gon had offered her a kindness and her guests had disgraced her. He still felt badly for her. He knew he should let go of that feeling; he'd seen that she had in her last words to him, and whatever she had said to Qui-Gon before leaving.

Still gazing at his Master's face, Obi-Wan wondered what that last exchange had been between the two older Jedi. He breathed in, letting that thought go. It had been private. If Qui-Gon wished to share it, he would. Drawn in by his Master's repose, Obi-Wan's thoughts gradually stilled into his own semi-meditation.

Time passed. Sitting comfortably on his pedestal Obi-Wan watched, not thinking, the calm settling into his whole being.

The calm receded, gentle but swift. Obi-wan started.

Qui-Gon was looking at him.

Obi-Wan blinked back, a little embarrassed to be caught unaware. Qui-Gon smiled back.

"Have you learned anything, my Padawan?"

He had no answer. _Never invite old, obnoxious Jedi Masters into your room? Or at least not too many at a time? And especially not with food?_ He stumbled over a response.

"I'm sorry...that it went so badly. For Master Narimoyak," he finally said.

"Ahhh." Qui-Gon nodded sadly. "That is why they all came," he said. "For her." He inhaled through his nose, flexing his shoulders, loosening his legs from where he'd been sitting. "I sensed that she was very glad to see them, even though they behaved badly." He unfolded his legs. They stood and stretched a moment, following the same simple exercise together.

"Did you learn anything, Master?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Yes," he answered with a long-faced and serious expression. "I should not eat sweet curls and yag-fungus at the same time." His hand rubbed his tummy over his belt for emphasis.

Obi-Wan gaped back at him. Then he grinned and Qui-Gon smiled back, dispelling the momentary gloom.

"I believe that the droids should have finished by now," Qui-Gon stated. They both left the cool, peaceful room.

When they returned to Qui-Gon's room, they found it spotless and empty. The table was cleared and polished, the floor cushions, also freshly cleaned, neatly arranged around it. The floor and rug were free of the snack debris that had been ground into them where the boots of the others had walked when they had all retrieved their robes; the curtain hung on the wall unmolested. Even the air felt cleaned with not even a trace aroma of food remaining.

A plate of a few salvaged sweets and a cookie sat next to a datalink in the center of the table under the overhead lights. Qui-Gon picked up the flat device. A note from Narimoyak glowed on its small screen.

"Your patience exceeds my loss. We are changed. The Force is with you."

 

 

**END - - - Narimoyak: Odd Assembly**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously posted on other web sites, approx. 2006.
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters and situations belong to Lucasfilm/Disney; I'm just playing in their sandbox.

**Author's Note:**

> This story previously posted on other web sites, approx 2006.
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters and situations belong to Lucasfilm/Disney; I'm just playing in their sandbox.


End file.
